


Recurrent

by bryndenn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Episode: s03e11 Mystery Spot, First Time, M/M, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-05 16:33:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18832429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryndenn/pseuds/bryndenn
Summary: Stuck in an infinite loop of Tuesdays, Sam is forced to confront his feelings for his brother. Luckily for him, Dean is receptive.





	1. Chapter 1

If he never heard Asia again in his fucking life, it would be too soon.

As if that wasn't bad enough, the first thing he had to deal with every morning was Dean's exhortation to "rise and shine." For a while, it made Sam want to deck Dean. Until it didn't.

Part of him rose, to be sure. Sam quickly rolled on his side, his back to Dean, to hide the evidence. Fucking Dean.

Well, yeah. Fucking Dean was the problem.

Sam was fourteen when he first realized the way he loved Dean was different from the way other people loved their siblings. Different from how Dean loved him. Sam had a lot of deficiencies (Dad had made that more than clear over the years), but he certainly didn't lack the Winchester ability to ignore uncomfortable feelings.

He just couldn't handle it quite as well at it as Dean and their father. A couple times a year, usually coinciding with Dean bringing home his fuck-of-the-week, Sam allowed himself to wallow. Tears were shed, things were punched, and the evening was normally capped off with Sam angrily jerking himself off to the sounds of Dean pounding into whoever in the next room. Least satisfying orgasms ever, but he couldn't manage to stop doing it.

Stanford was an attempt to extricate himself from the situation until he could figure out how to make his feelings towards Dean nothing more than fraternal. He made friends, he met Jess, and things got easier. He rarely thought of Dean, and he'd made it over a year without one of his pissed-off masturbation sessions.

And then. Tuesday happened. Repeatedly.

Day after day of watching Dean die. Day after day of realizing he'd never get a chance to tell Dean how he really felt. Never get to feel the brush of those gorgeous, smart-ass lips against his own. Never gag on Dean's cock as it hit the back of his throat.

Ahem.

So, clearly, the feelings were back, and they were getting more difficult to control. Sam knew how Dean would react to almost any given situation, but now he knew the exact look Dean would have on his face at any given moment. Knew that, after his first bite of pig 'n a poke, Dean would lean his head back and groan almost orgasmically. Knew how tight Dean's jeans were on his thighs as he lip-synched Heat of the Moment. Knew that he only had a few hours left until Dean would die, and he'd have to relive all of this over again.

After a while, he gave up on the idea of cluing Dean in to his impending demise. It didn't make a bit of difference whether Dean knew or not; he was going to die anyway. May as well not bother having the same conversation over and over again.

There was enough repetition in his life already.

***

"C'mon, Sammy. I'm starving," Dean said, adjusting himself through his jeans. Sam made every effort not to stare and quite nearly succeeded. "Hurry up, man. Let's figure this whole Mystery Spot thing out so we can get out of town. Weird vibes around here."

Sam sighed. Weird vibes indeed. He followed Dean down the street towards the diner where they'd had dinner the previous night. He allowed himself to stare at Dean's ass as they walked. Just a little. He deserved _some_ joy.

Pancakes and special ordered. Coffee delivered. Sam took a sip, scalding his tongue a little bit like he did every morning. At least the coffee tasted strong and fresh.

"What'sa matter?" Dean glanced up from putting too many sugar packets in his coffee. "Did I use up all the hot water or something?"

"Or something," Sam muttered.

"So this is how it's going to be?" Dean said. Sam glanced up. This wasn't a conversation that they'd had yet. Dean's face softened a bit. "You still having weird dreams?"

"Yeah, I got this weird sensation that this has happened before."

"Like deja vu."

"No, not like deja vu."

"Sounds like deja vu." Dean raised an eyebrow as he took a sip of his sugar syrup coffee.

"Just, never mind," Sam said. "Food's here."

Dean perked up, dropping the waitress a wink as he took her plate. She dropped the hot sauce. Sam caught it. Two-thirds of the people at the table were suitably impressed.

Later that afternoon, a garbage truck wiped Dean out.

Business as usual.

***

The next morning Dean seemed a bit out of sorts. Nothing terrible, just not quite as cheerful as normal. The day after that it was worse. After a few days, Dean was snapping at everyone about everything, which meant that Sam took the brunt of it.

Sam wracked his brain to try to figure out what was going on, until it hit him: Dean was acting the way he did when he hadn't managed to get laid in a while. Dean didn't know that they'd been stuck in Tuesday forever, but it seemed that his body was more than aware of the time that had passed.

Well, wasn't that just a conundrum.

 _Stop trying to fuck your brother_ , Sam lectured himself. He busied himself, instead, digging through Dean's bag while Dean showered. It didn't take long to find a battered copy of Busty Asian Beauties; Dean had been using the same beat-up army duffel since they were kids, and he always put his porn in the same spot. Same smiled a bit at the memory; some things were as predictable as the fact that today was Tuesday, and tomorrow would be too. Sam tucked the magazine back in the bag, saving it for another time. Soon. He couldn't live with Dean being this bitchy for long.

Dean made it through their time outside the room without dying. Sam had long ago lost the flicker of hope that used to rise when he thought maybe they'd finally outrun Tuesday, that maybe time would be working again. There were plenty of dangers even in the hotel room.

"Dean," Sam said over their dinner of greaseburgers and fries. "After we eat, I think you should take some time for yourself."

Dean snorted. "Oh yeah? Paint my nails or something? Wax my ass?"

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, willing away the visual. He got up and went over to Dean's bag.

"What are you doing in my shit, dude?" Dean said, a slight nervousness in his voice that was entirely needless, considering how much time the brothers spent together.

"Here." Sam tossed the magazine at Dean. Dean instinctively reached out to catch it.

"You want me out of the room so you can jerk off? I didn't know you appreciated good porn, man. I figured you'd need some arthouse film where someone's crying as they fuck."

"Not _me_." Sam glared at Dean. "Just go in the bathroom and take care of things. Maybe you'll stop being such a bitch."

"Me?" Dean said with a snort. "That's sort of like the bitch calling the bitch…kettle….a…..um, bitch."

"Nice comeback. I'm putting my headphones on, loud, and I suggest you take advantage of the situation."

Sam didn't let himself look up from his book for what seemed like forever. When he finally risked a glance, the bathroom door was closed. Sam heaved a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived. His mind immediately began supplying helpful pictures of exactly what Dean was doing behind that closed door. Sam's hand was down his pants almost before he realized what was happening. Dean hadn't been wrong about him needing some relief, as well.

Sam stroked himself, quickly falling into the familiar rhythm. He closed his eyes, savoring the feelings shooting through his body. He imagined it was Dean's hand, that Dean was the one jerking him off. He felt the tip of his cock slick up with pre-come and knew he wouldn't last. He visualized Dean's pretty lips closing around his cock, Dean's tongue licking away that bead of liquid and then teasing the rest of his cock head, those green eyes looking up into Sam's. His orgasm snuck up on him and before he knew it, he'd creamed his pants like a middle schooler.

Sam groaned and attempted to clean himself up with his shirt. He hoped that, when time reset, his laundry would reset as well.

Speaking of time resetting--Sam realized the bathroom had been surprisingly quiet for quite a while. He got up and walked over to the door, pressing his ear to it. Nothing.

"Dean? Dude, are you almost done? You're not the only one who needs that bathroom."

No response, and Sam knew perfectly well Dean would never let his previous statement go unanswered.

Sam turned the doorknob, expecting the lock to catch. Instead, the latch opened. Leave it to Dean to not even bother locking the door when he was jerking off.

Dean lay sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood. It looked like he had slipped ( _probably getting creative instead of just getting the job done_ , Sam thought sourly) and bashed his head on the sink on the way down. How had Sam not heard that?

He leaned down to check for a pulse, even though he knew Dean was dead. Afterwards, he washed Dean's blood off his hands the best he could and crawled into bed. 

May as well get a head-start on the next Tuesday.

***

Sam's eyes flew open. He glanced to his right, expecting to be assaulted with Dean's infuriating morning enthusiasm. What he saw instead was an empty bed.

The light in the bathroom was on. Sam stood up, stretched, and went to make sure Dean was still among the living. One time he'd died before Sam even woke up, and that had been particularly disconcerting.

Dean was brushing his teeth and staring down into the sink.

"Hey, man," Sam said from the door.

Dean turned around to look at him. He had shadows under his eyes. He grunted a response.

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine?" Sam said with a smirk. "Come on, cranky, let's go to breakfast. You'll feel better once you get some sausage in you."

Not a chance Dean would let a line that outrageous slide. Sam thought maybe he'd overdone it.

Dean spat in the sink and rinsed his toothbrush.

"Grow up, Sammy," he said in his best big-brother voice.

Sam stared at him for a moment. For a dude who'd just jerked off, Dean sure was being a surly bastard. And then it hit him.

Dean died before he'd finished.

So not only had it been a long time; Dean had essentially had an edging session the night before that he didn't even remember. No wonder the guy was tense.

Sam didn't say a word; he just retrieved Busty Asian Beauties from Dean's duffel and threw it at him, closing the bathroom door on Dean and his porn.

The door opened again almost immediately, and Dean strode out. "What the fuck, Sam? Going through my stuff? Throwing things at me? What are you, ten?"

"Dude," Sam groaned. "Just TCB. Please."

"Weird and a little offensive, man." Dean stuffed the magazine back in his bag. "Now let's go get some breakfast before it gets any weirder."

Dean's sanctimony was worn down, at least somewhat, by the application of bacon. Still, Sam wasn't sure Dean was in any state to interview the owner of the Mystery Spot; chances were good it would lead to more than one death, and Sam didn't have that in him. So he told Dean they needed to go back to the room because he forgot his cell.

"Jesus, Sammy," grated Dean. "Can't you put that big brain to use not forgetting basic shit?"

Sam held his tongue. He didn't know how much more of Dean's shit he could take, though.

They walked into the room, and Dean stopped, crossing his arms. "Hurry up. We're wasting time."

"That excited to get to the Mystery Spot, Dean?"

"I just want this case wrapped up and us back on the road. Maybe find a nice roadhouse, meet a girl who's just on the right side of easy..." He got a far-off look in his eyes that made it clear what he was thinking.

"You sure you don't want some time in the bathroom?" Sam drawled. It was ill-advised, but he just couldn't stop.

"You know, man, what the fuck?" Dean said, stomping up to Sam, grabbing him by his lapels, and throwing him back into the wall.

Sam had been prepared for Dean to snap at some point, so all it took was a shift of his weight to catch Dean off guard. He spun Dean around so his back pressed against the wall. He pinned himself against Dean. "Are you done?"

Dean struggled, and Sam thought for a moment he might throw a punch. Sam leaned in, further preventing Dean from moving. He could feel his dick stiffening--could its timing be any worse?--and he was about to let go for his own sake when he realized he wasn't the only one sporting wood. He could feel Dean against his leg, hardening by the moment. Startled, Sam's eyes snapped to Dean's, searching. The anger was there, but underneath he saw thinly-veiled lust and just a bit of fear.

Sam knew that emotional cocktail exceptionally well.

Before he could lose his nerve, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Dean's. At first, Dean's mouth tightened and showed no other response. Then, after a moment, his mouth loosened and he parted his lips slightly. Sam didn't need any more invitation. He pressed his tongue into Dean's mouth, tasting bacon and sweet coffee and Dean. Sam's hands moved from clutching Dean's shirt to sliding down his sides, coming to rest on his hips.

Dean met Sam's tongue with his own, tilting his chin up to give Sam better access to his mouth. One of Sam's hands tangled itself in Dean's hair and he gave it a slight pull, causing Dean to groan into the kiss. Sam smiled; he'd always suspected Dean had some masochistic tendencies, but getting physical verification of it was just delicious. He tugged again and was rewarded with Dean grinding against his leg.

"You like that?" Sam asked, breaking the kiss just enough to get the words out.

"Jesus, Sammy." Dean's voice wavered a bit.

Sam dove in for another kiss, which Dean returned enthusiastically. Sam explored his brother's mouth with his tongue, marveling that it was Dean he was kissing, Dean making little breathy noises into Sam's mouth.

And then Dean tensed up from head to toe. He clutched his chest. His eyes met Sam's and they were full of pain. After a moment, they weren't filled with anything at all.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, lowering his brother to the ground. But Dean was already gone.

Fucking Tuesday.


	2. Chapter 2

"Rise and shine, Sammy!"

Sam rolled over, pulling a pillow over his head. After what had happened the previous day, he'd expected to awaken to an even more sexually frustrated Dean, but his brother looked positively chipper. Sam had stayed up too late the previous night, jerking off to the memory of kissing Dean and then feeling terrible about the fact that Dean's body lay lifeless on the floor in the other room.

"Five more minutes," Sam said through the pillow.

"C'mon, Sammy, we got stuff to do." The bed sank as Dean sat down next to him. "Breakfast! Coffee! Mystery Spot!"

Dean began to bounce on the edge of the bed very much like he used to when he was eleven and Sam was seven. It had always worked well to get Sam out of bed then.

But things had changed. Dean might not know it yet, but they had.

Sam threw the pillow off his face and reached his hand into the back of Dean's hair in one smooth movement. He pulled Dean in and kissed him deeply. Dean gasped, which gave Sam exactly the opening he was hoping for to explore his brother's mouth. This time, there much less hesitation before Dean kissed him back.

Dean crawled onto the bed, his hot mouth never leaving Sam's for a moment, and he laid down against Sam. Sam turned to his side and they were facing each other, hands tangled in the other's hair and tongues tangled together. Sam sucked on Dean's tongue and Dean moaned, bucking towards Sam.

Sam broke the kiss, earning an adorable little whine from Dean. "Do we need to talk about this?" he asked, his voice husky.

Dean's only response was to kiss Sam once again. Sam pulled Dean closer and their semi-hard cocks brushed against one another, separated by Sam's flannel pants and Dean's jeans. Sam jumped a bit, almost as if he had been shocked. After that, there was nothing semi about it. Sam moved his hips against Dean, chasing that delicious electric feeling again. From the noises Dean was making, he didn't seem to have a problem with anything Sam was doing.

Sam had no idea how long it was hands and tentative touches and lips and groans, but it could never be long enough to satisfy his desire for his brother. Regardless, he didn't want Dean to have another heart attack, so he gently broke the kiss and sat up, staring wordlessly at Dean.

Dean's pupils were shot, a dark black hole inside a ring of brilliant green. "Holy fuck, Sammy," he whispered as he sat up.

"Yeah," Sam said with an embarrassed smile. "Sorry. I shouldn't have presumed."

Dean barked a single laugh. "Yeah, clearly I hated it."

Sam reached out and cupped a hand around Dean's cheek, the sentimentality and gentleness in stark contrast to the way they'd been trying to devour one another a moment before. Dean pressed his cheek into Sam's palm. "I've wanted to do that for as long as I can remember," he said softly, as if he was still protecting his secret.

Sam sat up straighter, startled. "You have?"

"God, yes." Dean turned his head to press a kiss to Sam's palm. "I hadn't even dropped out of school yet when I started thinking about how much I wanted you. I used to imagine you sucking me off in the shower, and I would come so hard at the thought."

Sam chuckled. "And here I was thinking you were spending all that extra time in the bathroom on your hair. But why didn't you tell me? I would have been on my knees for you so fast."

Dean groaned and leaned in close to nip at Sam's neck. "You're not helping me calm down."

"What if I don't want you calm?" Sam leaned forward and caught Dean's mouth in a kiss.

After a moment, Dean leaned back and looked Sam straight in the eyes. "I couldn't do that to you, Sammy. You had a future. You had a shot at a real life. And I knew if you and I started... doing that, you would never leave. And you had to, Sam."

Sam remembered the frustration he felt prior to enrolling in Stanford. That hateful July, with temperatures well above average and a big dose of humidity to match. He didn't think Dean had looked him in the eyes once that entire summer.

"I thought you couldn't wait to get rid of me," he said.

"I was just so relieved it was almost over. I was trying my damndest to keep my hands to myself for a few more weeks. But it was hard for me to look at you. Every time we talked was a chance for me to say what I shouldn't've , to ruin your entire future." He glanced around, and Sam was shocked to see tears in Dean's eyes. "Guess I just kicked the can down the road a few years."

"No, Dean." Sam pulled him closer. "This isn't on you. I'm the one who kissed you."

"And I wasn't strong enough to stop it," Dean said, staring blankly at the far wall.

Well, Sam wasn't having that for a minute.

"I didn't want you to stop it, Dean! I'm a grown man now and I can decide for myself who I want to fuck!"

Dean whipped his head around, and there was a hunger in his eyes he couldn't hide. "Do you want to fuck me, Sammy?" he asked softly.

Sam gave his best "well-duh" look. "Isn't that what we've been talking about?"

Dean shrugged and returned to studiously not making eye contact. "I don't know. It's been a while, maybe you were just horny and I'm convenient."

Sam burst out laughing at that. "Oh, sure. Nothing more normal. 'I can't be bothered to pick up a girl at a bar, I think I'll kiss my brother.' Happens all the time."

Dean's eyes were back on his. "So you _do_ want to fuck me?"

Sam flopped back, his forearm over his eyes in feigned frustration. "Yes, you idiot. I want to fuck you into the bed. I've wanted to as long as I've wanted to fuck anyone." 

Dean pulled Sam's arm from his face and laid back down next to him, laying his head on Sam's shoulder and mouthing gently at his neck. Sam's entire body broke out in goosebumps. "So it's ok for me to do this?" Dean said. Sam couldn't see Dean's smile, but he could hear it.

"More than ok." Sam was rewarded by Dean sucking harder on his neck. Sam rolled on his side to get closer to Dean, and Dean smoothly shifted his attention to the other side of Sam's neck, his hand tangling once again in Sam's hair. Dean's mouth moved up to nip gently behind Sam's ear, and Sam stifled a moan.

"It's ok," Dean said in his ear. "You can make noise. Lets me know I'm doing things right." He punctuated his last word by reaching his hand between them and cupping Sam's cock.

Sam gasped and, without any conscious thought, bucked into Dean's hand.

"That's right," Dean said, his lips still directly next to Sam's ear. "You like that? My hand on your cock?"

Sam wasn't proud of the needy little noise that escaped from his mouth. Dean gave him a smug look and Sam knew he was taking pride in his sexual prowess. There wasn't anything wrong with Dean thinking it; but if he thought he was driving, he was sorely mistaken. Sam rolled on top of Dean, slotting his thigh between Dean's legs and discovering his brother was just as hard as he was. Sam growled and attacked Dean's mouth. He was rewarded by Dean pushing up against him with his own little groan.

"That's better," Sam said, pinning Dean's hands above him. He ravaged Dean's mouth as his free hand worked its way lower, over the hard muscles of Dean's chest. He pinched a nipple experimentally and Dean's sharp intake of breath indicated his appreciation.

"So responsive," Sam murmured. Dean responded by nipping his collarbone. "Are we using teeth now?" He leaned over Dean's chest and bit his nipple through the thin t-shirt covering it. Dean bucked up against him, his cock even harder against Sam's leg. Sam bit down once again, slowing increasing the pressure.

It took a moment for him to realize Dean wasn't moaning; he was making some wet sort of gargling noise. Sam immediately let go of Dean's arms and braced himself on either side of his brother. He desperately tried to figure out if he should clear Dean's airway or do chest compressions, and as he hesitated, he watched the light go out of Dean's eyes.

It had been both the best and the worst Tuesday of his entire life.

***

Sam spent some time with his thoughts after he covered Dean and moved to the other bed. He felt like he hadn't slept in a week, but he knew as soon as he closed his eyes, the day would begin all over again.

At least Dean would be alive.

But for how long? Sam knew they had to do something to get out of the loop they were stuck in, but he had no idea how to deal with it. He'd torn the Mystery Spot apart board by board; there was nothing there.

 _Did you ever think maybe God's punishing you for wanting to fuck your brother?_ a nasty voice that sounded suspiciously like John Winchester snarled in his head.

 _Supposing there is a God_ , Sam responded.

_Use your brain. There are demons. There's a hell. Why wouldn't there be a God, and why wouldn't he reserve a special torture for someone as fucked up as you?_

Sam pressed his fingers against his temples, willing the voice to shut up. He knew what he and Dean had been doing would be seen as wrong by society, but they weren't hurting anyone. It's not like either of them was going to get pregnant. Why shouldn't they look for comfort in the person who understood them better than anyone else?

_Comfort? Is that what you call wanting your brother's cock in your throat?_

"Shut UP," Sam snapped into the silence of the room.

 _Hope you're enjoying Tuesday, because you definitely haven't learned your lesson yet_ , the voice whispered gleefully.

Sam shook his head. Never mind real demons; the ones in his head were providing more than enough torture. He glanced over at the other bed, where Dean lay under the brown patterned comforter. Did the voice have a point? Could it be he was being punished for his unnatural longing for his brother?

No. They'd been living Tuesday over and over for weeks, and he'd only just started this thing with Dean. He couldn't believe it was the cause of the endless repetition.

 _Convenient that you justified continuing to mess around with your brother, isn't it?_ the voice asked.

Sam quashed the voice down until it was little more than a prickle in his mind and forced himself to go to sleep. He'd feel better once Dean was alive again.

***

Sam's eyes flew open and he wasn't particularly surprised to find himself back in his own bed, even though he’d fallen asleep in Dean’s. He laid there for a moment, remembering what had happened on the previous day. The disparaging voice in his head seemed to be gone, at least for the moment. Sam didn't push it. The voice could stay gone forever, as far as he was concerned.

He turned his head to the right, expecting a gratingly cheerful greeting from his brother. Except Dean was nowhere in sight. Sam heard water running in the other room, and realized that Dean must be in the shower. That was unusual; he had normally finished showering before Sam woke up. It gave him a delicious idea.

Sam shucked the t-shirt and boxers he had been sleeping in. His cock was already stiffening, imagining what might be happening soon. Well, that was ok. If everything went to plan it would be getting a lot harder. He opened the bathroom door, not making any attempt to be quiet. It wasn't unusual for Dean and him to share a bathroom, although not to the degree that Sam was about to suggest.

"Hey," Dean said from the shower. "Bout time you woke up."

Sam took a deep breath and pulled back the shower curtain. "Can I join you?" he asked, his voice rough.

Dean turned towards him, and his jaw dropped as he took in Sam's naked form, his half-hard cock. "Sammy?" he asked, tentatively.

"Dean." Sam raked his eyes over his brother's wet form, taking in the cut muscles, the spiky hair, the delicate freckles underneath the greenest eyes imaginable. "Can I?"

Dean just nodded and stepped back to make room for Sam. It was a tight fit, but Sam didn't mind in the slightest. Dean stared at him with wide eyes, seemingly frozen in place.  

"God, you're gorgeous.” Sam ran his hand over Dean's pecs and down over his hard stomach. "Can I kiss you?"

Another wordless nod, and Sam took full advantage, leaning in and capturing Dean's mouth. Dean opened for him and Sam swirled his tongue in Dean's mouth, savoring it, starving for it even though he'd tasted it so recently. He pulled Dean towards him, just close enough that their cocks brushed against each other. Dean broke the embrace with a gasp, looking up at Sam with a raw look in his eyes.

Sam broke the kiss and cupped Dean's cheek. "Ok?" he confirmed.

"Yeah." Dean pulled Sam close again. This time, Dean took the lead, exploring Sam's mouth. Sam groaned in appreciation as Dean's hands settled on his hips, tracing the muscles there.

Before he even consciously realized what he was doing, Sam was on his knees looking up. “Still ok?” he whispered, his thumbs tracing circles on Dean’s hips.

Dean tried to speak, but in the end settled for nodding.

Sam didn’t need any more encouragement. He turned his attention to his brother’s cock, standing proudly at attention, almost begging to be touched. He traced a line on the underside with one finger. He heard Dean gasp at the sensation, and it literally made his mouth water.

“Big,” Sam said, tracing his finger delicately around the head. “I knew you were, Dean, but this is better than I even imagined.”

Dean groaned as he tangled his hand in Sam’s hair. Water was falling into Sam’s face, but he didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Did you ever think about this when we were younger?” Sam asked. “During those long showers?”

Dean startled a bit. “You knew?” he asked.

Sam felt a little bad for using what he’d learned on previous Tuesdays to tease Dean—but only a little. “I suspected. I know now.”

“God, Sammy, it was so wrong,” Dean said, and his erection flagged just a bit.

Sam could see that Dean was about to head back down the same guilty path he had before, and knew he needed to take swift action. He closed his lips around the head of Dean’s cock, swirling his tongue, and felt Dean stiffen back up immediately.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean said, guilt forgotten.

Sam swirled his tongue around the head once again, savoring the salty taste and the silky heat. He relaxed his throat and slowly took more of Dean in his mouth, until Dean’s cock was entirely sheathed in his mouth and throat.

“Goddamn, Sammy,” Dean moaned. “Have you been practicing?”

Sam shook his head back and forth a bit, feeling the pressure against his throat. He wanted to tell Dean _never, I’ve only ever wanted you, only ever wanted your cock_ , but he was unwilling to free up his mouth to speak. Dean apparently liked the sensation of Sam shaking his head, as he grabbed Sam’s hair once more and thrust himself forward.

Sam gagged around Dean’s throat, pulling back instinctively.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry, Sam,” Dean said, moving back.

Sam let out a little growl and shoved his head back down his brother’s cock, hoping his meaning was clear.

Dean stopped moving and let Sam take the lead, just like Sam hoped he would.

Sam drew his head back, focusing his tongue once again on the head of Dean’s cock before slamming it back into his throat. No gagging this time, and the sounds coming out of Dean’s mouth made it more than worth it. Sam quickly established a rhythm, swallowing and swirling in a way that reduced Dean to little more than whimpers.

After only a few minutes, Dean gasped, “I’m going to come.”

Sam gave him a small nod and kept his rhythm, making it clear that he was committed to finishing the job.

Dean’s hand tangled in his hair once again as Dean began to thrust erratically. He felt the warmth of Dean’s come hitting the back of his throat, and swallowed it down gratefully. He kept up his rhythm, pulling every last drop from Dean before laving his softening cock gently with his tongue.

Dean sank to his knees, his cock popping out of Sam’s mouth. He grabbed Sam by the back of the neck and pulled him in for a filthy kiss. Sam knew that Dean could taste himself on Sam’s tongue, and that thought turned him on even more.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean said, breaking the kiss. “You sure you’ve never done that before?”

“I’ve thought about it plenty,” Sam said, before pulling Dean in for another kiss.

Dean groaned into his mouth. “I bet I’ve thought about it more.”

Sam got to his feet and gave Dean his hand, pulling him up so both of them were standing. The water on them had cooled, but it felt nice against Sam’s flushed skin. No reason to rush out of the shower. “Prove it,” he said, moving Dean’s hand over his cock.

Dean’s fingers wrapped around Sam’s hard length. He pulled Sam in for another kiss, slowly stroking his cock, applying just the right amount of pressure.

It was Sam’s turn to groan. “Damn, Dean,” he muttered.

“Damn right,” Dean said, kissing Sam again.

Sam felt almost dizzy from the pleasure of it, of Dean stroking him expertly while his tongue explored Sam’s mouth. It was all suddenly too much, and his orgasm overtook him with little warning. He gasped into Dean’s mouth as he came all over his brother’s hand. Dean stroked him through his orgasm, not letting go until Sam’s shudders had ceased.

“Jesus, that was hot,” Dean said, bringing his hand to his mouth and licking Sam’s come off his palm. If Sam hadn’t just exploded, he definitely would have come at the sight of Dean licking his hand.

As soon as Sam regained his ability to speak, he pulled Dean close for another kiss. “Breakfast?” he asked, to which Dean enthusiastically agreed.

It was Sam’s fault that day. At least, it was Sam that Dean was turning to kiss just before he tumbled down the stairs and broke his neck.


	3. Chapter 3

Before Dean could so much as say a word the following morning, Sam was on his knees, mouthing hungrily at Dean through his jeans. Dean looked stunned as Sam struggled with the button and the zipper, but he made no attempt to stop him.

Sam pulled jeans and boxers down and found himself once again facing Dean’s gorgeous, hardening cock. With no preamble he wrapped his lips around Dean’s length and swallowed him down.

Dean still hadn’t managed any actual words, but one hand rested on Sam’s shoulder while another gripped the back of his head, pushing his cock deeper into Sam’s mouth. Sam relaxed his throat, willing away his gag reflex as Dean’s cock hit the back of his throat.

“Goddamn, Sammy,” Dean whispered.

Sam hummed around Dean’s cock and Dean’s hand tightened in his hair, encouraging every tiny movement that Sam made. Sam felt his throat relax moreso than he had the previous day and he took Dean even further into his mouth, swallowing just to hear Dean’s groan and feel the almost involuntary thrust of his cock.

It didn’t take long before Dean’s movements turned erratic and his hand tightened in Sam’s hair. With a grunt, Dean came hard into Sam’s willing mouth. Sam swallowed every drop and then gently licked Dean’s cock clean.

As soon as he got to his feet, Dean’s mouth was on his. Sam stumbled backwards until he bumped into the side of the bed. He sat and Dean immediately followed, straddling Sam while he continued to kiss him. Sam felt dizzy from Dean’s nearness and yet it still wasn’t nearly as close as he wanted to be. Sam attempted to roll so Dean was on his back and Sam was on top of him, but Dean had other ideas. He growled and kissed Sam deeply as his hand found its way between Sam’s legs and squeezed. He appeared to like what he found.

“Not so little, brother,” Dean said, a smirk on his face. “What can you do with that thing?”

“Guess we’ll find out when I fuck you,” Sam said, breathless but unwilling to cede the upper hand to Dean.

“Is that how it’s going to happen?” Dean said, nipping at Sam’s neck. “I’m not sure we’ve negotiated who’s pitching and who’s catching.”

Sam had some solid ideas, but when he opened his mouth all that came out was a moan. Dean squeezed Sam once more.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dean said, grinning. He pulled at the hem of Sam’s shirt and Sam scrambled to pull it off. “Jesus,” Dean said. “Sammy, you used to be so scrawny. Not anymore.”

“Not anywhere,” Sam said, pressing his hips up to rub against Dean’s hand. “Get these pants off and I’ll show you.”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice, pulling Sam’s pants down with so much force they nearly ripped. Sam was so hard it was almost painful, so he was relieved when Dean took pity on him and immediately wrapped a hand around his cock.

“Damn,” Dean said, sounding impressed and maybe just a little nervous. “Negotiations are definitely required.”

“Do I have to negotiate to get your mouth on it?” Sam asked, trying to sound sexy but, he was afraid, coming across more as desperate.

“Nah, that one I’ll give you,” Dean said.

Before Sam even realized what was happening Dean’s mouth surrounded the head of his cock. Sam whined and bucked his hips upwards.

Dean held Sam’s hips down further and muttered, “You’re going to kill me with that thing if you’re not careful.” Sam wilted a bit at the very real possibility of it, and Dean attributed it to something else. “I’m ok, man,” he said, circling the head of Sam’s cock with his tongue. Sam forced himself to stop thinking about Dean’s impending death; if he started, he might literally never stop, and he didn’t want to miss a moment of his brother’s lips wrapped around him.

Turns out Dean sucked cock with the same easy, natural grace he brought to any physical enterprise—not that Sam would have expected less. Dean moved his entire upper body, with his tongue moving as a counterpoint, teasing the head of Sam’s cock. After a few—seconds? minutes? Sam lost his sense of time to the movement of his brother’s talented mouth—Dean removed one of the hands pinning down Sam’s hips and grabbed the base of his cock, tongue and fist moving together to an almost blinding degree of pleasure.

“Fuck, Dean,” Sam groaned, his entire consciousness narrowing to the feeling of Dean’s hand and mouth working in concert. Dean hummed against him and the vibration of it threw Sam quickly over the edge. Before he could even grind out a warning he was spurting down Dean’s throat.

Dean flopped down next to Sam, a self-satisfied look on his face. “Jesus. I’m sorry, dude,” Sam said.

“Sorry for what, Sammy? It’s not your fault that you fell victim to my superior blowjob skills.”

“And just where did you learn those skills?” Sam said, raising an eyebrow. “Because that was definitely not the first dick you’ve ever sucked.”

Dean attempted an innocent look and failed. “What are you implying, Sam?”

“Oh, that was no implication, Dean. It was a direct accusation.”

Dean snorted. “Jealous, Sammy?”

Well, yeah, a little, but he wasn’t about to give voice to that. “Curious, is all,” he said with an attempt at casualness.

“You were at Stanford,” Dean said. He was also aiming for a tone of voice that said it wasn’t a big deal, and he also failed. “I went through a phase.”

“You went through a banging dudes phase? What did Dad have to say about that?”

“What did Da….. Christ, Sam. You think I told _Dad_?”

“I just assumed he knew. You guys spent so much time together.”

“Well, contrary to what you seem to think, I didn’t conduct most of my sexual experiences in Dad’s presence.”

“So, Dean, since you’re the one skilled in this—pitching or catching?”

Dean shrugged, looking a little nervous. “I switched.”

“But you must have had a preference.”

Dean laughed at that. “My preference is having sex, Sammy. The rest of it is just details.”

Sam propped himself up on his elbow. “What if I have a preference?”

“Do you?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t know,” Sam answered honestly. “Every time I imagine it I’m fucking you, but I’m not entirely opposed to letting you fuck me.”

Dean groaned and palmed his cock, which was quickly hardening again. “Guess we’ll just have to try both and find out,” he said.

Sam didn’t even try to tell Dean that they probably wouldn’t have that chance, at least not in that particular lifetime.

***

It was macabre to say, but Sam preferred that, if Dean was going to die, he do it outside the motel room. It eased his mind a bit not to have to share quarters with Dean’s body. It also made it easier to think about what was happening between them. Even if Dean, himself, was no longer present, it was weird to think about him when his body was still in the room.

So, all things considered, sometimes the car accidents were the easiest to deal with.

One evening, months into the same day and a couple weeks into their redefined relationship, Sam was alone with his thoughts. Those thoughts were pretty much evenly split between reliving what had happened earlier that day, fantasizing about what would happen the next day, and overwhelming guilt.

All he thought about was Dean—what Dean had done to him, what he was going to do to Dean. It was the focus of all his waking hours. He spent the mornings initiating some sort of sexual contact with his always-wiling brother, and the evenings thinking about it.

He’d stopped trying to find a way out of the situation. Because what if things were different back in the real world? In the repeating pattern of Tuesday, Tuesday, Tuesday, Sam knew that Dean would always be receptive to his advances. What if it wasn’t the same when they went back to real life? What if Dean’s libido was affected by the same sort of strange forces controlling everything else?

What if they went back to normal and Dean was repulsed at the idea of touching Sam in the way he needed to be touched?

Because try as he might, Sam couldn’t pinpoint a single hint from the real world that Dean shared Sam’s obsession.

So would Sam rather go back to a time when he didn’t have to experience his brother’s death on a daily basis? Or would he rather keep what was happening between him and Dean, even if it meant watching Dean die over and over again?

He knew that he wasn’t especially torn between the two ideas, and it made him feel terrible about himself. But not quite terrible enough to stop.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who has taken the time to leave kudos and comments. It means more to me than I can say! I hope you're enjoying the story. Please let me know if you are!

Sam woke up to a singing Dean, and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to pounce on his brother immediately. By that point, they knew each others’ dicks pretty intimately (although Dean needed some reminding on a daily basis), and Sam was extremely interested in trying something new. He suspected that Dean would be on board too.

“Did you shower?” Sam asked, throwing the covers off.

“Are you saying I stink, Sammy?” Dean asked, with a mock-offended look.

“Just answer the question, smartass.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dad, I showered. And put on deodorant and everything.”

Sam wasn’t actually offended, but it gave him the opening he was looking for. He crowded Dean right up against the wall and grabbed his lapels. “Don’t ever call me Dad,” he whispered. Dean’s eyes dropped to Sam’s lips, and then guiltily back to his face, and Sam knew he had him. “I mean, if you want to call me Daddy we might be able to negotiate it,” he said, closing the distance between their mouths while savoring the shocked but hungry look in Dean’s eyes.

And just like that, Dean’s tongue was in his mouth and they were starting all over again.

It wasn’t hard to get Dean out of his clothes and back in the shower. Sam would willingly admit that he was a big fan of the shower; there was something about hot water coursing over him while his brother went down on him that really got him going. But he had an ulterior motive on that particular morning. He wanted to taste his brother’s ass, and he hoped to entirely bypass Dean’s inevitable concerns about cleanliness (because, as they both knew, Dean was secretly a prima donna when it came to such things). Sam had no concerns on that front, but he wanted to make Dean as comfortable as possible. And then he wanted to make Dean come as much as possible. Two entirely reconcilable goals.

Dean’s hand, rough with callouses and shaking a bit with excitement, wrapped around Sam’s cock, bringing him back into the moment. Sam grabbed the back of Dean’s head and thrust into Dean’s fist, groaning into his brother’s mouth.

“So fucking hot, Sammy,” Dean said, breaking the kiss for a moment.

Sam took advantage of the situation and turned Dean around. Dean let go of Sam’s cock somewhat unwillingly, but that seemed forgotten by the time Sam pressed himself tight against Dean’s back, his cock nestling in between Dean’s ass cheeks. He reached around and grabbed Dean’s cock, stroking him to return the favor.

Dean let his head drop back against Sam’s shoulder, moaning as Sam stroked him. Sam licked at the pulse point in Dean’s neck that he could see, fluttering as if Dean was about to have a heart attack.

_Dear lord, don’t let him have a heart attack._

Dean ground his ass back against Sam’s cock, making all thoughts of Dean’s impending demise fade into the background, at least for the moment.

Sam grabbed the bar of soap and sudsed Dean up, paying an inordinate amount of attention to Dean’s cock, which he eagerly thrust into Sam’s soapy hand. Dean moaned as Sam fondled his balls and then sneaking up behind them to caress the sensitive skin there. The groan he let out when Sam moved his hand away quickly lowered in tone to a happier growl when Sam moved his hand to slide a finger along his ass crack. Sam’s finger just ghosted over Dean’s puckered hole, causing Dean to gasp.

“You like that?” Sam whispered in Dean’s ear. “More?”

Dean nodded, which was all the encouragement Sam needed. He swirled his pointer finger over the sensitive muscle, which was already twitching in anticipation. After a moment, Sam breached Dean’s asshole, just a little bit.

“C’mon, Sammy,” Dean said. “You gotta give me more than that.”

Sam was perfectly aware that soap wasn’t the most ideal lube, but there’s no way he could resist Dean’s request. He slowly began to slide his finger in, Dean’s ass opening just enough to allow Sam in. He felt the tight muscle and slowed, wiggling his finger until the secondary ring of muscle yielded to him. From there it was a slow but smooth glide in until his finger was fully inside his brother. Dean’s ass clenched around his, deliciously tight, and Sam couldn’t imagine how he could possibly fit his cock up there. He was entirely willing to try, though, after some patient prep.

Dean gasped and pressed against Sam’s hand, willing him to move. Sam was more than happy to oblige, slowly sliding his finger out and back in again, reveling in the breathy gasps and moans Dean was making.

“Taking me so good, baby,” Sam whispered in Dean’s ear. Dean turned his neck so his lips could meet Sam’s, and Sam matching the plunge of his tongue in time to the plunge of his finger in Dean’s ass. After a moment he pulled his finger out, earning him an adorable whine from Dean.

“Don’t worry,” Sam said. “I’m not remotely done with you yet.” He dropped to his knees, pulling Dean’s ass cheeks apart, and blew gently on Dean’s hole, which was still gaping just a bit from his finger.

Dean shuddered and made a needy noise. Sam had no intention of making him wait any longer; he leaned in and flattened his tongue, licking a stripe from bottom to top. He repeated the motion a couple of times before focusing his tongue exactly where he knew Dean wanted it.

“Christ,” Dean ground out.

Sam circled Dean’s hole a few more times before pointing his tongue and thrusting as far as he could inside. Dean jerked backwards, making a strangled sound that Sam desperately hoped wasn’t him actually strangling. Sam sucked hard and felt Dean tense around him. He had a sneaking suspicion that led to him reaching around to find Dean’s cock softening.

“Did you just come untouched?” he asked Dean, grinning.

Dean glanced back at him. “I’m not going to live that one down, am I?”

“Oh, hell no. All it took was my tongue in your ass and you were shooting like a teenager watching his first porno.”

“Y’know, for someone who would probably like to get blown in return you’re giving me an awful lot of shit,” Dean said, his voice low but lacking any real edge.

“Blown in return, you say?” Sam said, standing up and raising his eyebrows in interest. “What do I have to do to make that happen?”

Dean grinned. “Call me pretty and buy me dinner?”

“I always suspected you were an easy date, Dean.”

“Can’t help it. I was raised in a car by an obsessed father. Fucked me up.”

“Interested in getting fucked some more?”

Dean pulled Sam in for a filthy kiss, leading to a flurry of hands, mouths, and cocks that gave Sam plenty to think about later that night after his brother was dead.

***

The following day was one of those uncomfortable times when Dean died before they even left the room. That gave Sam an entire day to fill, without the option of his new favorite pastime, and with Dean decomposing in the motel room.

All considered, the library seemed like a preferable spot to spend the day.

The librarians at the Broward County Public Library either took the Mystery Spot seriously or had a wicked sense of humor. The occult section was surprisingly well-stocked, and the library offered access to a historical paranormal database that Sam had never seen outside of a university library. Unfortunately, a wealth of information just made his search more frustrating.

Time loops were rarely discussed in the literature, and, when they were, they were the result of something much bigger than the pedestrian sort of spooks Sam and Dean usually dealt with—god-level bigger. Sam finally found stories from Scandinavia, Wales, and West Africa discussing the sort of thing that he was experiencing. The stories had a single common denominator: they were in areas where there was widespread belief in some sort of trickster god.

Now, didn’t that sound familiar?

Was it possible that they hadn’t killed the Trickster during their last meeting?

Sam supposed that anything was possible, although he recalled the Trickster looking pretty damn dead. On the other hand, this was a creature that trafficked in deception. If anyone could pull off a ruse like that, Sam suspected it was that guy.

God forbid there was another trickster god out there wreaking havoc. Sam didn’t know if he could handle that. He gathered up the papers he’d printed before he realized that they’d just disappear the next day and set off for a solitary dinner at the local diner.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your feedback! Nothing kicks my muse in the ass like knowing I have people waiting for the next installment. <3

Dean follow Sam’s lead in regards to the Trickster, providing menacing back-up as Sam interrogated him. Sam was relieved that Dean fell into his role so easily, even without any background information. It couldn’t possibly hurt that both of them were reeling from their time together that morning after they woke up.

“Hiya, fellas,” the stranger said as his face morphed into that of the Trickster’s. “Mighty fine weather we’re having, eh?”

Sam was not amused. Dean had been killed the day before by a lightening strike.

“What are you playing at?” Sam growled.

“Aw, Sammy, aren’t you having fun?” the Trickster asked with a smirk. “You get to play with your favorite toy every day.”

Dean startled a bit and glanced at Sam, who could feel his cheeks coloring.

“Oh. Oh-ho-ho. Sam, you bad boy. You haven’t told Dean what’s going on, have you? So he thinks this morning is the first time you two have touched each other. How delicious.”

Dean’s eyebrows knit together just a bit, a sure sign that he was confused and trying to mask it.

“Is it good?” the Trickster asked, leaning forward and stage-whispering. “Is it good every day, Sammy?”

Dean lurched forward, pinning the Trickster to the wall by his throat. “Don’t you ever call him that,” he said in a low voice.

“Okay,” the Trickster said in a strangled voice. “No more Sammy. Now put me down.”

Dean let go, but he kept a hand on the base of the Trickster’s neck, just in case.

“Sam, what’s this asshat talking about?” Dean said, his eyes not moving from the Trickster.

“Yesterday was Tuesday, and today is too,” Sam mumbled.

“Not helping, Sam,” Dean said, the impatience obvious in his voice.

“We’re in a time loop. We keep reliving the same day over and over.”

“The _same_ day?” Dean said, looking at Sam and cocking an eyebrow.

“The details change,” Sam said.

“Just the details?”

“He’s asking if you two fool around every day, Samm—” The Trickster caught himself right before adding the second syllable. “I can answer that one, Dean. Every day. Sometimes more than once. Your brother seems to have quite a taste for you.”

This time it was Dean’s turn to flush pink. Sam tried not to notice how appealing Dean looking, blushing under his freckles, but it didn’t work. Sam had it bad for his brother.

“I can put you back to normal,” the Trickster said casually. “One thing, though. What you two have between you? It’s part of the spell.”

Sam felt his stomach drop out. He didn’t want to hear anymore, but he needed to.

“I can fix the timeline,” the Trickster continued. “But are you willing to give up this little brotherly lovefest the two of you have going on?”

Sam’s eyes met Dean’s, and they stared for a moment. Then Sam began to shake his head yes as Dean began to shake his no.

“Dean, we’ve got to get out of here. You _die_ every day.”

“What else is new, Sammy?” Dean said, a note of bitterness in his voice. “What do you think I’d be doing otherwise?”

“Living your life? Not dying on a daily basis?” Sam said.

“Not fucking your brother?” the Trickster added. Then, in response to the two glares shot at him, he said, “Only trying to help.”

“Don’t,” Dean snapped. Then, to Sam, he said, “This morning was amazing. I don’t want to go back to a time where I don’t feel like this about you. I’d rather have you and the dying than life without you.”

“You can’t say that, Dean,” Sam said, frustrated. “You don’t know what it feels like, watching you die over and over again. Watching you suffer.”

“Nope, I don’t,” Dean said firmly. “Because it gets wiped from my memory every night. I don’t know that I’m dying. _Don’t_ go anywhere,” he snapped at the Trickster, letting go of him and moving to take Sam’s arm. He turned Sam away from the Trickster for some semblance of privacy. “I was alive this morning, Sammy. We were alive. I can handle the death.”

“You heard it yourself, Dean,” Sam said. “It’s a spell. It’s not real. This isn’t how you really feel.”

“It felt pretty fucking real this morning,” Dean said, holding Sam’s gaze. “Didn’t it? Sam, I feel like I’m at peace for the first time that I can remember. Don’t take that away from me.”

“Dean, people are dying while we live the same day over and over. Not just you. Think of all the people we haven’t saved while we’ve been here.”

“Oh, no need to worry about that,” the Trickster said brightly. “We’re out of time right now. You’re not missing anything. When I snap these little fingers”—he rubbed his thumb against his middle finger—“it’ll be like you never left. Well, for one of you. Sam, I’m afraid you’re destined to remember anything. I’ll do Dean a solid and make him forget, just like I have every other morning.”

“So I wouldn’t know, Sam,” Dean said. “I wouldn’t remember any of this. I won’t remember how I feel about you right now.”

Sam felt his willpower wearing down. What he really wanted was to have time to work through the ramifications of what the Trickster was telling them.

As if he could read Sam’s thoughts, the Trickster said, “Take a day or two to process. You know where I have my breakfast every morning.”

Dean was convinced, even if Sam wasn’t. “C’mon, Sammy,” Dean said. “Let’s go talk this out where we don’t have an audience. Don’t make any decisions that we’ll both regret without thinking it through.”

Sam nodded slowly. “Ok. But we have to actually talk things through.”

“Of course,” Dean said. “Why wouldn’t we?”

The sound of the Trickster’s laughter seemed to follow them the entire way back to their hotel room.

***

They hadn’t even made it to the room before Dean’s hands were in Sam’s hair, his mouth hungrily covering his brother’s. Sam kissed him back with equaling passion and a certain desperation that had been lacking in their experience up to that point. The idea that he might lose Dean like this, that he might never feel Dean’s tongue in his mouth again, Dean’s hands roaming and stroking in just the right way, was almost more than Sam could bear.

Did it matter that it wasn’t real, that it was just a manifestation of the Trickster’s illusion?

As they crashed through the door into their room, Sam made the decision to figure all of it out—tomorrow. After all, it would still be Tuesday.

Their frenzy didn’t ebb in the slightest once they were alone. Sam fumbled with the button on Dean’s jeans, while Dean worked on Sam’s. Finally, both pairs of pants were unbutton and unzipped and they turned their attention to shirts as they kicked their pants off. Sam pulled Dean’s shirt off first, only breaking the contact of their kiss for the time the fabric was between their lips before diving back in, claiming Dean’s mouth with his own.

Dean was less patient, and Sam felt the seam on the side of his shirt rip from how hard Dean tugged on it. He paid very little mind to it, though, as Dean immediately latched onto Sam’s nipple, biting softly. Sam moaned and grabbed Dean’s hair, giving it a solid tug. Dean responded by biting down a little harder, and Sam bucked his hips against Dean. Dean finally pulled what was left of Sam’s shirt up and off, and then returned to Sam’s chest.

“I won’t ever get enough of this,” Dean said before taking Sam’s other nipple in his mouth. The electric sensation searing through Sam made it easy for Dean to knock him off balance. Luckily, Dean had maneuvered them to the bed beforehand and he fell with Sam. Their hard cocks rubbed together and Sam made a needy little noise that he wasn’t especially proud of. Then Dean was kissing down his stomach, running his tongue over each of Sam’s defined abs. He ran a finger under the waistband of Sam’s boxers, teasing, seeming to enjoy the noises he was dragging out of his brother. Before Sam even realized what was happening, his boxers were off and his cock was engulfed in Dean’s mouth.

Sam cried out as his hips bucked towards the all-consuming sensation of Dean’s mouth. Dean hummed around him, increasing Sam’s pleasure immeasurably. Sam had no idea how long he thrust into his brother’s willing mouth; he only knew that when Dean moved away, it felt far too soon.

“Open me up,” Dean said. “I want you inside me.”

“Lube?” Sam asked, right to the point.

“I have some in my bag. Should I grab a condom too?”

“You tested recently?”

“Yeah, I’m clean.”

“Me too. I mean, we’re already on board with the incest,” Sam said. “How much worse can bareback be?”

“Valid point,” Dean said, moving towards his bag. “Besides, I want to feel you shoot deep inside me.”

Sam’s cock twitched; he wondered if it was possible to come just from listening to Dean talk dirty. An experiment for another time.

Dean returned with a bottle of lube, and Sam was slicking a finger up the second he got the bottle in his hands. “Lay on your back,” he commanded Dean.

Dean quickly complied, his cock looking almost painfully hard. Sam bent over and took Dean deep into his mouth while his lubed finger probed at Dean’s puckered hole.

“Jesus, Sammy, let me have it,” Dean groaned.

Sam couldn’t resist a request like that; he slipped his finger into Dean’s ass, slowly at first to let Dean adjust. As soon as Dean began pushing back against him, Sam slid his finger further in. He curled his finger just a bit, brushing Dean’s prostate and causing him to jump.

“More,” Dean grunted, and Sam obliged him by adding a second finger. He pumped his fingers in and out of Dean’s ass, savoring the increasingly desperate sounds his brother was making. As soon as he thought Dean could handle it, he added a third finger. He stopped sucking Dean’s cock for a minute just to admire the sight of Dean’s hole tight around his fingers. At the thought of replacing those fingers with his cock, Sam felt himself getting impossibly harder.

“I’m ready,” Dean said. “Let me ride you.”

That was a request that Sam didn’t hesitate to oblige. He laid on his back, watching Dean’s flushed face, his hard cock. Dean lubed Sam up and Sam couldn’t resist pumping into the slick warmth of Dean’s hand.

“You think that’s good, Sammy, just wait,” Dean said with a filthy smile.

“I can’t wait, Dean, that’s the problem,” Sam said.

Without another word, Dean positioned his ass over Sam’s cock, holding it steady with one hand, and sank down, slowly sheathing himself around Sam. It was like nothing Sam had ever felt before. Dean was impossibly tight and warm and utterly amazing. After all the fantasies Sam had had about fucking his brother, the reality put them all to shame.

“Goddamn it,” Dean groaned as Sam bottomed out. “Dude. If the hunting thing doesn’t work out, you might have a future in porn.”

Sam grinned and reached out to hold Dean’s hips as he drove upwards. Dean dropped his head back and honest-to-God whined, which Sam would never have imagined could be so hot. “Ride me, baby,” Sam whispered.

Dean didn’t need any further instruction. He raised himself up and then let Sam fill him again, setting a quick, almost desperate pace.

“I’m not going to last,” Sam gritted out.

“Neither am I,” Dean said, not slowing in the slightest.

Sam wrapped his hand around Dean’s cock and Dean began to come almost immediately, shooting over both of their stomachs. Dean’s jaw was open and the look on his face was open, honest, and beautiful. Almost before he realized it Sam was emptying himself deep inside his brother.

They only managed the most cursory clean-up before they fell asleep, their limbs tangled together as if they couldn’t possibly be as close as they wanted to be.

Sam was glad when Dean awoke from their nap. In fact, Dean made it until after their dinner, which was retrieved from a taco truck. Dean _had_ mentioned that his tacos tasted funny.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter. Thank you so much for reading, and for giving me a reason to write. I hope I'll have more stories for you guys soon!

Sam awoke from a dream that was like a compilation reel of all the times he’d watched Dean die. He knew what he had to do, no matter how much he didn’t want to. Regardless of what Dean had said the previous day, Sam had to put an end to this. Dean would never be the wiser, so no one had to deal with the aftermath aside from Sam, and, after seeing Dean die so many times in his dream, Sam finally felt strong enough to end it. If he didn’t, he was literally letting his brother experience a nightmare on a daily basis.

“Dude, you look like someone just shot your puppy,” Dean said as he walked out of the bathroom with his toothbrush in his mouth. “Are you _crying_ , Sammy?”

“I just had a weird dream,” Sam said, his voice only wavering a bit.

“Clowns or midgets?” Dean asked with a smirk.

“Let’s just get breakfast,” Sam said. He was afraid that he’d lose his nerve if he didn’t move quickly.

The Trickster was in his normal place in the diner. As soon as Dean got up to use the bathroom, Sam walked over to him.

“Let’s talk.”

The Trickster snapped his fingers and the face he was wearing morphed into his own. At the same time, everything around them froze. “Let’s,” he said with a grin.

“Take us back,” Sam said simply.

“You ready for that, big boy?” the Trickster said, raising an eyebrow. “You know what it means.”

“I know,” Sam said through gritted teeth. “I can’t keep letting this happen to Dean.”

“There’s that Winchester nobility I keep hearing so much about,” the Trickster said. “If you can call someone who gets off on fucking his brother _noble_.” Sam’s hand was already threatening to tighten around the Trickster’s neck, but the Trickster grabbed his wrist. “Uh-uh-uh, Sammy. You kill me, you’re never getting out of here. Although,” he reached between Sam’s legs and squeezed, “now that you’re officially single, we could have some fun.”

Sam knew there was murder in his eyes as he took a step back, but the Trickster had him in a corner and both of them knew it. “Touch me again and I’ll break your hand,” he said in a low voice.

“Temper, temper,” said the Trickster, sounding entirely unconcerned. “It was just an offer.”

The sound of the Trickster’s laughter seemed to ring in Sam’s ears long after time had restarted once again.

***

It had been so long since he and Dean hadn’t messed around after breakfast that Sam couldn’t quite figure out what to do with his time. He decided their best bet was to actually investigate the Mystery Spot, which seemed like a bit of a novel idea after all that time. It certainly would be strange to do so without Dean dying in the midst of the investigation.

“Sammy, what’s wrong with you?” Dean asked as they walked to the Mystery Spot. “You haven’t been this moody since you were fourteen.”

“I just have a lot on my mind,” Sam said.

“Did you get into your freshman philosophy notes again?” Dean asked. “Because you promised me last time that you were going to give Nietzsche a break.”

That earned him a weak smile. “No, no existentialism,” he said, trying not to let his mind consider what a very existential conversation they were having. “Maybe I just need a change of scenery.”

“Well, let’s get this bad boy wrapped up and get the hell out of Florida,” Dean said.

Sam faked a smile and nodded in response.

When he woke up the following morning, it was Wednesday.

***

It was several months after the Mystery Spot. Tuesdays only lasted as long as every other day and there was no sign of the Trickster. Sam had taken to bouts of angry masturbation again in response to Dean’s renewed predilection for bar bunnies.

Fucking Dean.

Sam felt like life hadn’t actually been real since they left Broward County. It felt real enough, in the same way that a dream feels real when you’re in it, but he had the same uncomfortable feeling that things weren’t quite right.

Dean didn’t share in this feeling, as far as Sam could tell. Until it happened.

Dean had been off all morning long. He’d woken up after Sam with a confused look on his face, and hadn’t said so much as ‘good morning’ before he shut himself in the bathroom. When he was done, his face still wore the same look, knitting his brows together.

“Let’s go,” he’d grunted, not even looking Sam’s way. Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes; if Dean saw him, it would become a whole big thing that he didn’t feel like dealing with.

As Sam turned from grabbing his jacket, he noticed Dean’s eyes were on him, but Dean quickly looked away.

“Dude, what?” Sam said in frustration, his plan to not make a big deal out of things forgotten.

“Nothing,” Dean muttered. “Let’s go.”

“Clearly it’s not nothing, since you’ve been acting like a bitch all morning.”

Dean looked Sam in the face, and Sam could read fear and confusion all over Dean’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked, his voice softening a bit. Whatever it was, it clearly had Dean freaked out.

Dean rubbed his fingers across his lips and stared past Sam. “I don’t know,” he said, the anger in his voice giving way to sadness. “It just feels like I forgot something really important, and I can’t be happy until I remember it.”

Sam’s eyes snapped to Dean’s. He couldn’t possibly remember—could he?

“Do you have any idea what it is?” he asked Dean softly, not wanting to spook him.

“I keep having these dreams,” Dean said. “There’s this person, and we’re touching each other.”

“Are you sure you’re not just remembering the weird sex you’re having with sorority girls?” Sam asked, a tinge of bitterness in his voice.

“No,” Dean said, sounding bewildered. “It’s not just sex. Whoever it is, I love them.”

Sam’s heart felt as if it was falling into his stomach. Either Dean was remembering, or there was someone else out there who might have the power to take Dean away from him.

“Do you have any idea who it is?” he asked.

Dean closed his eyes and tipped his head back, as if he was being informed by muscle memory. “Maybe,” he said.

“Well, who is it?”

Dean shook his head. “No one. It’s dumb. Let’s go.”

And then Sam took the biggest gamble of his life. “Is it me?” he asked.

Dean’s eyes snapped open and caught Sam’s. “Sammy, what’s happening?” he asked.

Sam could have made up a lie, but he just didn’t have the energy. Before he even realized what was happening, the story of the Mystery Spot was spilling out of him. He left out some of the more sordid details, but he did tell Dean that they kissed.

“And you were… ok with that?” Dean asked tentatively.

Sam laughed. “Yeah, Dean. I was definitely ok with that.”

“So it was just the Trickster’s spell that made us feel that way, right?”

Sam stared at him steadily for a moment before shaking his head no. “It was the Trickster’s spell that made _you_ feel that way. I’ve wanted this with you for as long as I can remember.”

They started at each other steadily for a moment before Dean covered the distance between the two of them and kissed Sam.

Sam immediately parted his lips for Dean’s tongue, and it tasted like home. One of Dean’s hand grabbed the back of Sam’s head, pulling him further into the kiss, while the other hand cradled Sam’s jaw.

“It wasn’t the spell, Sammy,” Dean said, after finally breaking the kiss.

And Sam’s world spun out of control as he crashed his lips into his brother’s.

_It’s Tuesday_ , his mind supplied helpfully. And just like that, that day of the week was redeemed in Sam’s eyes. Because this Tuesday would flow smoothly into Wednesday, and then into the rest of their lives together.

 


End file.
